Misery Loves Company
by 76-trombones
Summary: Regulus Black has made a decision that will change - and shorten - his life. He must struggle with this every day.
1. July with Crouch

**A/N: Harry Potter isn't mine, but you already knew that. Just enjoy the ride; there will be more chapters to follow.  
**

Despite the sweltering heat of summer, Regulus Arcturus Black anxiously tugged at the sleeves of his jumper. Was it his imagination or was everyone who walked past staring at him? Surely, he didn't look so different. Surely, nobody could tell . . . right? He felt so conspicuous . . . partly because he was wearing a turtleneck in July, but mostly because of something hidden in his very skin. He wanted to scratch it out. It felt . . . foreign. Strange. His body wanted to reject the unnatural magic coursing through him. As with a tattoo, his skin felt . . . different. He had a slight scar, which the others assured him would fade, only burning bright black when the Dark Lord summoned him. In the meantime, he would simply have to wear long sleeves during the hottest part of the year.

He should have expected this anxiety. One couldn't go through a life-changing event and walk away like nothing had happened. He should have known what would happen after last night. The previous night, he had crept out of his parents' house, gone down to the designated rendezvous in the graveyard, and finally got the Dark Mark emblazoned on his left forearm in a quiet ceremony, witnessed by a handful of Death Eaters (most of whom were related to him).

He was now one of the fold, one of the Dark Lord's chosen followers. It was a great honour. Regulus could now defend his birthright of magic and a respectable place in society as a pureblood from the encroaching forces of inferior mudbloods and blood traitors. He got to stand up and defend that which his family thought important and had ingrained in him since birth. He had the opportunity to bring some dignity back to the Black name after the shameful actions of his older brother, Sirius. It was the right thing to do, not just for him but for the whole wizarding world . . . right? The weight of his decision seemed to be suffocating him.

Well, it was too late to have second thoughts. Regulus tried to stay in the moment. He should've been paying attention to his lunch partner, Barty Crouch Jr., who was currently sitting across the table from him as they grabbed a quick bite to eat at the Hog's Head. Crouch was going on and on about some attack he'd already participated in with some of the older Death Eaters. Barty Crouch was a good two years older than Regulus and was really enjoying life outside of Hogwarts by cursing the hell out of people. To be honest, Regulus could care less about Crouch's braggadocio.

At least he knew how to seem like he was involved in the conversation. Between bites of a particularly greasy pulled pork sandwich, he chimed in. "Mmhmm . . . Yeah . . . Uh-huh . . . You're absolutely right. . . . . Totally." It was a tactic he had picked up from his father at the dinner table; usually, it worked quite well with self-centered people, especially if the other speaker was caught up in what he or she was saying and not paying much attention to the other member of the conversation. Naturally, Crouch didn't notice.

An auror walked by the table where the young purebloods were sitting and made brief eye contact with Regulus, who all but choked. Did he know? Was it that obvious? Reggie couldn't go to jail just for being a member of the Death Eaters, could he? He was only a recruiter, an insider to snag a new generation of potential Death Eaters; he hadn't killed or tortured anyone! They couldn't prosecute him for a mark, could they?

The raw panic subsided as the auror walked away. Regulus let out an audible breath. "Do I look different?" he whispered to Crouch. "It feels like everyone is staring at me. . . ."

Crouch grinned. "All the difference is inside you. Can't you feel it?"

"Feel what?" Reggie asked, rubbing the affected forearm.

Crouch leaned in closer, ignoring as his corned beef slipped out of its bun and fell back onto the plate. "The power. The Dark Lord's favour runs in your veins now. You're chosen. That, my friend . . . that's everything."

Regulus nodded quietly. "Yeah, I - . . . I feel _something_." He definitely felt different.

Crouch licked his fingers and gestured for the bill. "You'll get used to it," he assured the fidgety young Slytherin. "I promise."


	2. August with Orion

Sirius Black's now unoccupied bedroom was disgusting. He had gone to great lengths to show just how much he disagreed with his family's code of beliefs and how little he cared about them. The walls of his room were plastered in Gryffindor flags, red and gold streamers, and posters of bikini-clad Muggle girls posing coquettishly for leering photographers. There was a plate of unfinished food on the littered floor – crunchy and moldy from being out too long. Dirty clothes were still strewn in heaps around the floor and the whole place smelled like sweaty teenager. Crumpled parchment was overflowing from the bin by his desk and everything was exactly as he had left it the day he ran away from home.

Regulus' own room was a stark contrast. Everything was in shades of green, silver, and black. His bed was perfectly made, his dirty clothes were in the laundry hamper, and his desk was completely organized. The Black family crest hung elegantly over his bed so he would always remember his allegiance. It was practically sterile, a room you would see in a magazine or a model home. The only signs that someone actually lived in that room were newspaper clippings detailing the Dark Lord's activity had been pinned up on the walls next to the photo of his Slytherin Quidditch team – distinctly personal touches in an otherwise lifeless display room.

The contrast between the Black brothers was almost alarming. One could hardly believe that they came from the same family in the same generation. Except for the fact that they looked so similar, a stranger would never assume they were related. They were only a year apart, but they were radically different. It had always been this way: Sirius was the rebel and Regulus was the obedient one. Sirius was a leader and Regulus was a follower. Sirius did what he wanted and Regulus sought only to please others.

Reggie stood in the middle of Sirius' bedroom and sighed. There had been a time when they were both very small that Regulus had looked up to his older brother. He'd thought he had hung the moon. Sirius was so cool . . . But the older the boys had gotten, the farther apart they had grown. Regulus sat on the unmade bed – probably an unsanitary decision – and deflated a bit. One thing Regulus admired in Sirius even now was the fact that no matter what he did he was confident. Regardless of the decision, Sirius always stuck to his guns and went forth confidently. Reggie on the other hand always bounced back and forth, analyzing until it was almost too late – overcautious. He quietly prayed that some of Sirius' spirit would help him get through the year and aid him in the decisions he had made.

"Regulus Arcturus Black, what are you doing in here?"

Reggie's head snapped toward the door and he leapt off the bed. "Dad!"

Orion Black was an older and slightly grizzled gentleman. He had lost a lot of weight in the past few months due to various illnesses that had plagued him. Formerly black hair was streaked with white. There were bags under his sharp brown eyes and wrinkles on his face – the face that copied itself in his two boys. A tall man, Orion was rigid, his joints locked with arthritis. Despite the pain he was in and the ravages of age, he still had the traces of the handsome man he had been forty years ago, almost a twin of Sirius. His cane bumped a steady beat against the floor as he walked over to his youngest son. "You know your mother does not approve of people in Sirius' room. You'd do well not to anger her; she's in a disowning sort of mood."

"I was just . . ." Regulus looked around. "I was packing my trunk for school and was hoping Sirius had left some quills."

Orion slowly lowered himself onto the bed with a small grunt. "Regulus," he said slowly, putting his hand on Reggie's back – the furthest extent of affection he had ever shown either of his sons. "I know it's been hard on you since your brother abandoned us. This has been a terrible blow to the entire Black name. You are the final Black heir, our only hope for a future."

Regulus bowed his head. "Everything I do is for the betterment of the family."

"I know. . . ." Orion sighed tiredly. "Your mother and I are proud of the sacrifices you have made." Although it was unspoken, they both knew what he was talking about.

Reggie tugged at the sleeve of the jumper that covered the Mark on his arm. "Really?"

"Really. Your selflessness - . . . well, it really proves how much better you really are than your blood traitor brother."

Regulus felt a small swell in his ego. He had never been considered superior to Sirius in any way. Sirius was always handsomer, braver, bolder . . . inferior? Regulus could live with that.

"It's hard," he confessed to his father. "I mean, I'm only a recruiter, so it could be way harder, but . . ."

Orion nodded slowly. "I understand. Your grandfather often said that being part of Grindelwald's army was one of the toughest things he had ever done. It's not always easy, but someone has to stand up for what's right."

"I know. . . ."

Orion carefully stood back up, leaning heavily on his cane. "Let's leave. Perhaps I have some quills in my study. . . ."


End file.
